


Fractured

by Sonata_IX



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:27:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27889015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sonata_IX/pseuds/Sonata_IX
Summary: A retelling of Chapter 68 of ACOMAF, where everyone returns to the town house after leaving Feyre with Tamlin and Hybern. Except everyone is more...volatile. Now expanding beyond a one-shot.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> These books mark the first time I’ve written fanfiction about books where my stories are taking place during actual book scenes. I’ve been trying very hard not to lift the author’s actual words from the books, because that’s just plagiarism. But in this case, the beginning of this story will follow chapter 68 of ACOMAF and then diverge, so I’m using more of the original words than I normally would. Everything up to the healer arriving is 100% SJM.

_Rhysand_

I slammed into the floor of the town house, and Amren was instantly there, hands on Cassian's wings, swearing at the damage. Then at the hole in Azriel's chest.

Even her healing couldn't fix both. No, we'd need a real healer for each of them, and fast, because if Cassian lost those wings … I knew he'd prefer death. Any Illyrian would.

"Where is she?" Amren demanded.

_Where is she where is she where is she_

"Get the Book out of here," I said, dumping the pieces onto the ground. I hated the touch of them, their madness and despair and joy. Amren ignored the order.

Mor hadn't appeared—dropping off or hiding Nesta and Elain wherever she deemed safest.

"Where is she?" Amren said again, pressing a hand to Cassian's ravaged back. I knew she didn't mean Mor.

As if my thoughts had summoned her, my cousin appeared—panting, haggard. She dropped to the floor before Azriel, her blood-caked hands shaking as she ripped the arrow free of his chest, blood showering the carpet. She shoved her fingers over the wound, light flaring as her power knit bone and flesh and vein together.

" _Where is she?"_ Amren snapped one more time.

I couldn't bring myself to say the words.

So Mor said them for me as she knelt over Azriel, both of my brothers mercifully unconscious. "Tamlin offered passage through his lands and our heads on platters to the king in exchange for trapping Feyre, breaking her bond, and getting to bring her back to the Spring Court. But Ianthe betrayed Tamlin—told the king where to find Feyre's sisters. So the king had Feyre's sisters brought with the queens—to prove he could make them immortal. He put them in the Cauldron. We could do nothing as they were turned. He had us by the balls."

Those quicksilver eyes shot to me. "Rhysand."

I managed to say, "We were out of options, and Feyre knew it. So she pretended to free herself from the control Tamlin thought I'd kept on her mind. Pretended that she … hated us. And told him she'd go home—but only if the killing stopped. If we went free."

"And the bond," Amren breathed, Cassian's blood shining on her hands as she slowed its dribbling.

Mor said, "She asked the king to break the bond. He obliged."

I thought I might be dying—thought my chest might actually be cleaved in two.

"That's impossible," Amren barked. "That sort of bond _cannot_ be broken."

"No, it can't," I said.

They both looked at me.

I cleared my head, my shattering heart—breaking for what my mate had done, sacrificed for me and my family. For her sisters. Because she hadn't thought … hadn't thought she was essential. Even after all she had done. "The king broke the bargain between us. Hard to do, but he couldn't tell that it wasn't the mating bond."

Mor started. "Does—does Feyre know—"

"Yes," I breathed. "And now my mate is in our enemy's hands."

"Go get her," Amren hissed. _"Right now."_

" _No,"_ I said, and hated the word.

They gaped at me, and I wanted to roar at the sight of the blood coating them, at my unconscious and suffering brothers on the carpet before them.

But I managed to say to my cousin, "Weren't you listening to what Feyre said to him? She promised to destroy him—from within."

Mor's face paled, her magic flaring on Azriel's chest. "She's going into that house to take him down. To take them all down."

I nodded. "She is now a spy—with a direct line to me. What the King of Hybern does, where he goes, what his plans are, she will know. And report back."

For between us, faint and soft, hidden so none might find it … between us lay a whisper of color, and joy, of light and shadow—a whisper of _her_. Our bond.

"She's your mate," Amren bit at me. "Not your spy. _Go get her."_

"She is my mate. And my spy," I said too quietly. "And she is the High Lady of the Night Court."

"What?" Mor whispered.

I caressed a mental finger down that bond now hidden deep, deep within us, and said, "If they had removed her other glove, they would have seen a second tattoo on her right arm. The twin to the other. Inked last night, when we crept out, found a priestess, and I swore her in as my High Lady."

"Not—not consort," Amren blurted, blinking. I hadn't seen her surprised in … centuries.

"Not consort, not wife. Feyre is High Lady of the Night Court." My equal in every way; she would wear my crown, sit on a throne beside mine. Never sidelined, never designated to breeding and parties and child-rearing. My queen.

As if in answer, a glimmer of love shuddered down the bond. I clamped down on the relief that threatened to shatter any calm I feigned having.

"You mean to tell me," Mor breathed, "that my High Lady is now surrounded by enemies?" A lethal sort of calm crept over her tear-stained face.

Before I could answer, there was an urgent knock at the door. Nuala and Cerridwen appeared in the doorway, summoned by the sound from wherever they'd been waiting. The wraiths took one look at the scene in the sitting room, exchanged glances, and moved in unison to swiftly skirt the edges of the room as they headed for the front door.

A moment later, Madja swept into the room, briskly assessing the situation. She went to Mor first, kneeling beside her to place a hand over Azriel's wound. "He can be moved. Get him into a bed and I'll see to him after—" Her eyes flicked to Cassian and she was halfway across the room to him before she realized Mor hadn't moved.

Madja paused only a moment, studying the expression on Mor's face as my cousin glared at me, seeing the explosion that simmered just beneath the surface. With a frustrated huff she beckoned to the wraiths. Cerridwen came immediately, bracing Azriel's weight against her as she whisked him away into the shadows and presumably into one of the upstairs guest rooms.

The healer took longer with Cassian, studying the shredded wings from all angles and clucking her tongue softly. When at last she stepped back, shaking her head, my heart dropped into my gut. "I have never seen damage this extensive. He will live, but ..." Her voice trailed off softly, knowing what the loss of his wings would mean. "We will have to see how the healing progresses. These first days will be crucial." She met my eyes. "I will do all that I can, High Lord."

I could only nod my thanks, my throat too tight to speak.

Madja didn't even bother speaking to Amren. With Nuala's help, the two of them gently carried Cassian the short distance into the dining room. I had a glimpse of them arranging him face down, wings spread across the long length of the table, before the healer gently but firmly shut the door behind her.

Leaving me alone with my second and third in command, who looked ready to slaughter me.

"Rhysand," Amren's voice snapped, cold and clear. "You should have told us." She was oblivious to Cassian's blood that still dripped from her fingers.

I shook my head tiredly. "It would have changed nothing."

"That. Doesn't. _Matter,"_ Mor growled through gritted teeth. "We deserved to know. We had _a right_ to know that _our High Lady_ was going with us into danger today." She stalked toward me, her eyes blazing as if she were on a battlefield. "We're your friends. _Your family._ And Feyre is part of that family too. How could you not tell us?" Her voice cracked a little, revealing the devastation that was hidden behind her rage.

Amren folded her arms, eyes like mercury boring into me. "Our High Lady is playing spy in one of the most dangerous places she could be, and you're just going to let her." A cruel smile twisted across her face. "It's like you don't even care." The words were barbed, calculated to hurt, and I flinched as they struck home.

It was an unfair statement and we all knew it. Any one of us would do whatever we could with whatever skills we had to end this war. I knew that Amren didn't really think I sacrificed people like pawns—I knew that she was just angry at being left in the dark. I knew it, but it didn't make her words hurt any less. Because what I hated more than anything was letting Feyre walk into that den of snakes, no matter how much of an advantage it might buy us.

Mor's fists gripped the front of my jacket, crumpling the fabric beneath her fists. "How could you just _let her go?"_

"And why are you still not _going to get her_ right now?" Amren snarled.

As Mor's voice grew louder and angrier, Amren's grew colder and deadlier. The accusations grew worse. They said I didn't care. I was using Feyre. I didn't respect her. I didn't trust any of them. I had betrayed my mate by letting her go. I was betraying them all right now. I felt like a ball caught between the two of them as they took turns beating me back and forth, spewing all of my own darkest doubts into the light.

Something inside me cracked.

"Enough," I said quietly, and darkness exploded through the room.

Mor gasped as I grabbed her wrists with clawed hands. She let go of my jacket and tried to step back, but I refused to release her. Across the room, Amren had dropped her hands loosely to her sides, as if readying for a fight. Tendrils of darkness swirled around the room.

"What would you have had me do, dear cousin?" I asked her in the low, deadly purr that I usually reserved for the Court of Nightmares. "Lock her in our home, as Tamlin did? She couldn't be held here. Perhaps I could have chained her in the dungeons of the Hewn City?"

Mor shook her head in horror, her face gone chalky white. Her mouth opened and closed, but she couldn't seem to find any words.

"Rhysand," Amren began warningly, but my eyes shot to hers. Whatever she saw in my face had her taking a half step back.

"Silence," I growled, and then I did something I had never done to my friends, my family. I took their voices.

I released Mor and she staggered away from me, tears shining in her eyes as her mouth formed words that no one could hear. That I couldn't bear to hear.

"I am your High Lord," I told them silkily. "It seems you may have forgotten that."

I paused long enough to let them feel the weight of those words, and the power of the darkness that surrounded them and drowned out all else. "And Feyre is your High Lady. That means _no one_ here gets to make her decisions for her. Not even me."

I looked between them, then drawled, "Nearly fifty years Under the Mountain. Fifty years of letting everyone believe I was a traitor, nothing more than Amarantha's toy. Fifty years of letting them think the worst of me, even that I was worse than _her._ " I met their eyes—first Mor, then Amren. "None of that wounded me as deeply as what you are accusing me of here and now."

Mor's hands were covering her mouth, as if holding in silent sobs. Even Amren had looked away guiltily.

"We have never had any masks between us," I continued, with a broad gesture that encompassed the entire town house and everyone within it. "But if you truly see me as a monster, you know that I can play that role. All. To. Well." I bit off the last words with a snarl.

Elsewhere in the house, a male voice bellowed and then there was a loud thump. I glanced up toward the noise, then back to the broken scene before me.

We were all silent now, the rage draining into sorrow and guilt. I wasn't trying to listen, but I could still hear their thoughts turning inward. Mor worried that _she_ had failed Feyre. Amren worried that _she_ was betraying her. Everything they had said to me was their own fears and failures rising up within them.

Maybe—maybe I had gone too far. Maybe we all had.

Closing my eyes, I breathed deeply, drawing the darkness back inside. Turning away from Mor and Amren, I released them with a wave of my hand. "One of you should probably check on Azriel before he hurts himself worse," I muttered as I stalked out of the room.

"Rhysand—"

"Rhys, wait—"

I could sense their regret, the crushing guilt, the need to apologize and keep our little family from completely fracturing. I paused in the doorway, looking back at them. But the pain was too raw.

I speared my words directly into their minds, wanting them to know that I'd seen their emotions.

 _What you're feeling is only the smallest fraction of how I feel. Think on that, the next time you accuse me of making decisions without_ caring.

And then I left them, heading straight to the roof, my wings manifesting behind me as I launched myself into the empty night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a one-shot but someone asked for Azriel and Cassian's reactions, so now we're on a journey man yeehaw.

_Rhysand_

I didn't return to the town house until almost morning. I was in no frame of mind to go back at all, but I had to. For Cassian. As a _daemati_ , I could hold his mind or send him to sleep, prevent him from further damaging his wings if he thrashed, and it was safer for him than if the healer had to drug him.

In the dim pre-dawn light, I made myself a simple breakfast, sitting alone at a table that only a few days earlier had been filled with laughter. I wondered if— _when_ it would be so again. Feyre was gone, but not forever. My hands clenched involuntarily, crumbling the toast I'd been holding.

I took a deep, silent breath. My control had to be better than this. I ran a mental finger down our bond, so closed and silent, and felt it tremble in response.

Her sisters. I hadn't even thought to check on them, didn't even know where Mor had hidden them. I would have to bring Madja to check on them soon … after …

The image of Cassian's shredded wings rose up vividly and the food turned to ash in my mouth, but I made myself continue eating.

There was a whisper, the slightest disturbance of air, and then Azriel materialized beside me, falling into a chair with a quiet grunt.

"Should you be up yet?" I asked blandly.

The shadowsinger shrugged, wincing a bit, and stole a bit of fruit from my plate. I nudged the rest of it toward him, unable to force myself to stomach another bite.

Above, a door slammed and feet stomped down the hall.

Amren appeared in the doorway, eyes glowing like molten silver. She didn't look at me. "You're not supposed to be up yet," she growled.

Azriel merely leaned back casually in his chair, his expression challenging. Everything in his posture screamed _Make me_ , and Amren snarled in response. I studied him surreptitiously. From this close, I could see the fine tremors that rippled through his limbs, the tightening around his eyes as he ignored the pain of his injury.

"Maybe you should listen to her," I suggested. "There's nothing else we can do here for now." Exhaustion had crept into my voice and Azriel's gaze shot to mine. I knew he was reading the underlying currents of tension that swirled between myself and Amren. Amren stiffened, realizing it at the same time and equally aware that there was nothing she could do to prevent Az from figuring out that something more was going on than just worry about Cassian.

The dining room door slid open then and Mor stepped out, her expression haggard. Her golden hair hung limp and tangled around her face and she didn't look like she'd slept any more than I had. There was still dried blood crusted on her clothes and arms. Some of her tension lifted when she saw Azriel, awake and eating as if nothing was wrong, but then she focused on me and her shoulders hunched again.

"The healer needs you," she said stiffly, staring in my direction without meeting my eyes.

Azriel continued to study each of us as I rose. I shoved my hands in my pockets as I smoothly strolled toward Mor, keeping my expression mild, almost bored. She slid out of the doorway as I neared, wrapping her arms around herself and looking away from me. My heart cracked at the sight. It was an attitude I had seen from females for hundreds of years as they shied away from me in fear. I had never expected to see my cousin use it.

I hesitated beside her, struggling to say something, anything, but she only stepped away, walking quickly to Azriel's side. Amren slid quietly into a seat at the other end of the table. "Fill him in," I said with a curt nod to each of them. "I trust you not to leave anything out." Cold, my voice was so cold. No one said a word.

I stepped into the dining room and started to close the door, then paused, turning back to Azriel and meeting his gaze. "Spymaster," I said formally. "I forbid you from going to the Spring Court."

Azriel straightened in his seat, giving me a nod to show that he understood the order from his High Lord, but his eyes darted between Mor and Amren. I gave him my best cruel smile and shut the door.

To find Madja frowning at me.

I raised my hands in surrender, my facade cracking. "I know," I sighed. "Let's just get through this first."

My eyes went to Cassian, to his wings which now glistened with a healing salve. "How is he?"

She was still staring at me and I swallowed, remembering Mor's expression and fearing the worst.

"Healing," she said at last, and relief swept through me. But she shook her head. "It's still too soon to know what that may mean." That quickly my fears came rolling back. I pulled out a chair near Cassian's head and sank into it, feeling lightheaded as my emotions roiled.

"He needs more time for the salve to work with his own healing ability. Then I can see what can be mended. But before I start on something of that magnitude, I'll need to recover my own strength." She eyed me and I knew there was no hiding my own exhaustion. "Can you hold him?" she asked gently.

I closed my eyes against the ache that rose up within me at her concern. They were the first kind words anyone had said to me since everything went to hell. That they pierced me so deeply said more about my fragile mental state than I wanted to acknowledge. So I shoved the emotion away, meeting Madja's gaze steadily. "For as long as it takes," I promised.

She merely nodded and left me to it.

I stared down at my brother's sleeping face. Carefully, oh so carefully, I reached into his unconscious mind. I didn't want to pry into his thoughts, but some of it couldn't be helped.

His dreams were full of pain and terror, pure undiluted rage at Hybern, guilt at his own failure to protect everyone, and paralyzing fear at what might have happened to us after he fell.

I immediately muffled the physical pain, and started a litany of soothing words. _We're fine. We're safe. We're alive. You saved us._ Over and over I repeated the phrases, infusing them with truth, dredging up feelings of hope and relief to fortify them with, until at last I felt Cassian begin to respond.

A deep shudder ran through him, causing his whole body to quake and his wings to quiver. The physical movement jolted me back to reality and my eyes popped open. He wasn't waking up, not yet, and I cursed myself for not freezing his body when I took away his pain. I did so then, and circled the table, studying his wings to see if the involuntary movement had injured them further.

I couldn't tell. The damage was still so extensive. I couldn't tell if they were worse. If it was even possible for them to be worse.

Fresh horror washed over me as I stumbled back to my chair. An echo of Cassian's guilt and failure rippled through my own thoughts. I shoved it away again, though it was harder this time. I was tired, so tired.

But I held on, keeping Cassian still and pain-free, murmuring reassuring words into his dreams whenever they veered into darkness.

Hours passed while I sat stiffly in that chair at his side. My head felt heavy and I itched to lean forward and rest it on my forearms, but I didn't dare. If I let myself relax even a little, I might drift off and I couldn't risk that happening. I focused on Cassian, watching each slow breath that he drew, and lost all track of time.

When the door at last creaked open, it was all I could do to turn my head and look at Madja. The healer slid inside silently, looking vastly refreshed. She circled Cassian's prone form with quick, efficient steps, pausing a few times to study patches of his wings more closely. Her examination probably only took a few minutes, but my thoughts fuzzed and I suddenly she was standing before me, frowning down at me.

I straightened in my seat abashedly. "How is he?" I asked hoarsely, grimacing at the roughness of my voice.

"He'll do for now," she said kindly. "I can manage him for the rest of the day. Find yourself a bed and return tomorrow."

I couldn't help the frown that crossed my face. "But—"

Majda tutted. "You want to help him? You're barely conscious." There was a healer's gentle scorn in her words. It was the tone she often used when one of her higher-ranking patients was being foolish. She couldn't order me to sleep, but she could make me feel ridiculous for refusing. "I'll need your skills for the next part, when I begin repairing his wings."

My breath caught. "So you think they can be repaired then?"

But she only shook her head. "Time will tell. Now, out."

I felt like my body was weighed down with stones as I stumbled out of the room, hating each of the stairs that I had to climb to get to the second level. When I finally reached my bedroom, which had so briefly been _our_ bedroom, it was all I could do to crawl onto the bed before the darkness of sleep claimed me.

* * *

I didn't feel any better when I woke hours later.

The bedsheets still smelled like Feyre. Getting out of that bed, leaving the warm, comforting darkness behind, when I knew what awaited me downstairs … it was harder than I liked to admit.

Azriel was again sitting at the table when I entered. Waiting. I had no idea what time it was, but the plate in front of him implied he was in the middle of a meal and he had one waiting for me as well. I nodded my gratitude as I slid into the seat across from him.

"I'm surprised you're still here," I said, attempting humor.

Azriel raised an eyebrow before his shadows swirled around him, almost hiding his features in their depths. "Here speaking to you, or here instead of the Spring Court?"

I gestured tiredly with my fork. "Either. Both."

He focused on the food on his plate. "I had a direct order from my High Lord about the Spring Court," he said, far too casually. A slight smirk tugged at his lips. "So I sent the wraiths instead."

I slowly set down my fork to stare at him, but he met my gaze, nonplussed.

"As to the other matter…" He paused.

I scowled. "You agree with Mor and Amren."

"We should have been told," he said quietly.

I felt my mask drop over my face protectively. In response, Azriel's own shadows wrapped more tightly around him.

"Is this how it's going to be now?" he asked, his voice merely a dark whisper. "Secrets upon secrets until there's nothing left to hold us together?" His eyes glittered at me out of the darkness. "Perhaps you should remember that this is not the first time a member of this court has gone away and not returned, against their will."

I stiffened, a different kind of darkness freezing me in place from within.

Azriel didn't miss my reaction. "You don't talk about what happened to you Under the Mountain. And we don't talk about what happened to us here, while you were gone."

"You could," I managed to rasp. "I've never asked you not to."

"You didn't have to. We know that if we shared anything, you might feel obligated to share as well, and none of us would force that on you. We all know that your nightmares are far worse than ours." He paused. "But we _do_ have our own."

I stared blankly over his shoulder, unable to move. I was a statue, my body as immobile and unyielding as stone.

"When you put that wall around Velaris, none of us cared that we were separated from the rest of the world," he continued. "We only cared that it was between us and _you_. And when that wall came down, another remained."

Azriel stood, his shadows withdrawing enough that I could see the agony etched on his features as he stared down at me. It occurred to me that this was more than I'd heard him speak in a long time, and finding the right words to say was as difficult for him as it was for me to hear them.

"Secrets, Rhys. You've built a wall of secrets to keep us out. And it's only getting higher."

My eyes burned and I didn't care if my brother saw my tears, but he turned to leave.

"We held together for forty-nine years. _For you_. Don't be the stone that breaks us apart."

And then he was gone.


End file.
